we blame the map

the joke begins here: the parade we hit
in the town of seneca
barring us from making our way through
towards the wisconsin river
the green of fern on fern on fern (and other
shade-loving plants) stacked up on top of each other
along the hills and rises that line the hikepath we’re on
the wavy scalloped shape
of desmodium (tick trefoil) seedpods
whose subtle stick-on-ness
makes them great hitchhikers
baptism keren says about
our heads under the smallest waterfall
at the sand cave
cool drips running over
our scalps
our throats
our necks
circling back around
to the view of the confluence
of the mississippi and wisconsin rivers
this time with sun and bright sky
and the crow/raven flight overhead
and trains moving in one direction
and then the other
we blame the map
for landing us here
and laugh

the vibration from the closed road we take anyway
that’s in its gravel phase of construction
and how it rumbles through the car into the seat into my back
reminding me of that massage chair
at sandhill
you know it’s a good day i say in the back seat to myself
about encountering the pink-wrapped round hay bales
along the highway as we ride

(hay bales which are normally wrapped in white
which means people call them marshmallows)
the joke ends with the last punchline
of hannah gadsby’s Nannette performance

just before we wash the night’s dishes
in the light of a candle